


Learning Curves

by keirajo



Series: The Love of Romance [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drama, Fluff, Heavy Petting, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Megatron and Rodimus talk about where their relationship is going and Rodimus starts learning more about his new ability.





	Learning Curves

**Author's Note:**

> **No actual graphic stuff, but some intimate conversations and wording............so I think teen+ is okay for this, let me know if it's not!**

**_ Learning Curve _ **

 

 

            “So………….is it a _Decepticon thing_ , then?”   Rodimus asked, quietly, sitting in Megatron’s lap and enjoying being held by the older mech.

            It was still a little while before they should head off for recharge together, so Megatron thought he’d try a little bit of “ _feeling up_ ” of his younger, flame-colored companion—and see how comfortable Rodimus was getting with moving towards intimacy of a different nature.   It was certainly the slowest Megatron had taken **_anything_** that could be regarded as a “ _relationship_ ”, considering about two months had passed since that day at the space mall.   There had been hugs and kisses………….and some very light, gentle caresses………….and recharging together.

            _Nothing more than **that** since the first time. _  And while Megatron was a very **_patient_** mech—he was also a rather **_insatiable_** one………….every single one he’d taken to his berth (or places _other than the berth_ ) had claimed so.   Megatron enjoyed passion……………but he knew right now, the very last thing he wanted to _ever_ do is hurt Rodimus _again_.

            But _this_ particular question had Megatron somewhat confused…………..

            “Is **_what_** a _‘Decepticon thing’_?”  He asked as he pulled away, a little bit of exasperation in his vocalizer, because he’d been enjoying nuzzling Rodimus’ neck cables.

            “ _The field thing_.  The field manipulation thing?   **_Are_** you manipulating my field?”  The flame-colored mech asked, unable to meet Megatron’s old, red optics.

            “ _Of course not_ , don’t be ridiculous…………… _why_ would I do that?”  Megatron sighed.   “My bright little flame, why are you asking such a thing?”  He added, turning his voice more towards a gentle tone, so he didn’t scare Rodimus.

            “When Ratchet gave me that checkup thing…………..he mentioned Drift had always been manipulating his field around me—I _guess_ to make me feel more comfortable or something…………..except I………..”  Rodimus said, gnawing his lip anxiously.

            “ _All right_.  I **_am_** manipulating my own field to make you comfortable, but……………I’m _not_ doing so to make you feel miserable,” Megatron answered, raising a servo to gently cup his beloved’s chin and make their gazes meet.   “I’m trying not to let you feel how _desperately_ I want to interface with you, I’m _not_ the type who can remain platonic for long—I _do_ enjoy the **_physical benefits_** of a relationship.   But I want this to move at _your pace_ , not mine.”

            “That’s…………..that’s really cool that you want me.  _I like that_.   You really **_do_** want me, right?   You _want_ me…………….and not just this frame and its obvious charms?”  Rodimus asked, the longing on his faceplate probably looking pretty obvious to the former Decepticon Leader.

            “I **_do_** want you.  But I don’t just want only that frame and its charms—no matter how much I enjoy physical intimacy.   I want the brilliant Spark and program that’s inside that frame,” the former warlord answered gently, rubbing his nasal ridge against the younger mech’s.

            “Then be _honest_.   I want to feel it in your field,” the flame-colored mech said with a soft pout.  “ _Don’t hide it_ —let me feel your field and how much you want me.”

            Megatron had great reservations at doing this, at letting his true feelings and desires out into his general field—he was worried he’d overwork Rodimus’ _very sensitive_ sensor net.   He wrapped his arms around Rodimus’ slender waist and pulled him closer, into a very tight hug.

            “Hang on to me, then—and if it’s too much………… _tell me right away_ ,” the grey-and-black mech whispered, softly.

            Rodimus pulled himself as close as possible to Megatron and laid his head over the bulkier mech’s left shoulder, wrapping his arms around him as much as he could.  “ _’Kay_.  I’m ready……….” he murmured, fingers digging into the treads on Megatron’s backplating.

            Megatron slowly let his true emotions for Rodimus swirl out into his field……..going outwards like ripples in a pond when a rock was thrown into it.   The flame-colored mech could almost feel the myriad emotions of love, passion, desire and want as different colors and different tastes—it began filling his dermal sensor net and spilling into his optical, nasal and mouth sensors.  He grabbed harder onto Megatron’s tank treads and mewled softly.

            “Should I stop…………” Megatron asked, trying to start to pull back the emotions in his field.

            “ ** _Don’t!_**    Wanna feel what………….you want of me……………” Rodimus whimpered, clutching at the bulkier mech desperately.

            The flame-colored mech never knew how powerful “ _love_ ” could be.   _No one_ had ever loved him.   He knew what “ _want_ ” was, as well as it’s parallel emotions of “ _desire_ ” and “ _passion_ ”—all of which he usually felt in the mechs who wanted to frag him.   But Megatron’s feelings of love were so strong and so solid……………so red and so sweet………………..with a scent like a springtime field on Earth—new and joyous.   It was so very, _very_ real………….and so was the passion and the desire…………..and that want.   _Oh, the **want**!_   Megatron’s **_want_** was rich violet and tasted like spice…………….scented with the acrid smell of smoldering embers.

            “ ** _Hah_** …………. _haaaaaaaaaaah_ …………. ** _oh_** …………. ** _UNGH_**!”  Rodimus moaned and groaned and suddenly trembled hard against Megatron.

            That surprised the former Decepticon Leader……………the younger mech just overloaded with pleasure as he took in all the emotion swirling and pulsing in Megatron’s field!   He was going to have to be really, _really_ careful if they ever interfaced again.   He quickly pulled his field back in— _all of those emotions!_ —so that he didn’t burn Rodimus out with sensing them.   He gently stroked Rodimus’ backstrut and spoiler, crooning soft little nonsense words and rocking gently with the flame-colored mech still weakly trembling in his lap.

            “Are you all right, my little flame?”  Megatron murmured, patting the spoiler gently.

            “ _Yeah_ …………yeah, sorry about that…………. _it really was strong_ ,” Rodimus whispered back, loosening his grip on the grey mech’s tank treads.  “ _Dammit_ ……………and you got **_nothing_** from that…………..and _you’re_ the one with the need……………” he mumbled, feeling bad, even as he was happy that Megatron was holding him so lovingly.

            “It’s fine.  I can take care of my own needs for a while—in regards to _that_ , anyways,” the former warlord chuckled, nuzzling the near grey neck cables with fondness.

            “It’s _not fair_ , I’m not being fair, **_but_** …………..” the flame-colored mech sobbed, softly, arms tightening around Megatron again.

            Megatron kept patting Rodimus’ back, gently and soothingly.   What really wasn’t fair is that Rodimus always got hit hard in his life—he was never found by a medical professional, so that his probable medical programming was met and trained properly.   He was _never loved_ by any individual, he was only fragged by them.   The only person that he felt _might love him_ …………….turned out to be _lying_ to him—though saying Drift was “ _lying_ ” wasn’t completely an accurate assessment, “ _being emotionally dishonest_ ” would be far more accurate of the way Drift treated Rodimus.   And because Rodimus was never treated properly by anyone, he didn’t know how to act and react……………and his dermal sensor net made him an emotional magnet, which he couldn’t even handle and went off into tantrums because he was in emotional overload.

            Megatron blamed Nyon.  _He blamed the Senate_.   **_He blamed Zeta Prime_**.   Everyone he couldn’t even rage at in person……………..he blamed them for destroying this young mech’s birth, life and even his future.   The only one he _could have_ raged at would’ve been Optimus Prime, because he knew that his old rival had never truly treated this young mech properly or respectfully—granting Hot Rod the name of “ _Rodimus_ ” in a legal gesture that was more or less a “ _thank you_ ” for bringing the Matrix back to Cybertron.   But now he couldn’t even rage at Optimus—because that mech had been left behind in another universe.   There was _no one_ Megatron could rage at for destroying the great mech Rodimus could have been and now was too damaged to attain his true potential.

            “Rodimus………….one day, if our relationship grows and endures—would you consider Spark-bonding with me?”  The grey-and-black mech asked, keeping his voice soft and still stroked and patted Rodimus’ back.

            “Words I _never_ thought I’d hear from **_Megatron_** ………… _I love it_ ,” Rodimus chuckled, his voice a little shaky, hugging the bulkier mech tightly.  “I’d really like that, _one day_.  I hope it’s not too far away.   I wish I were a stronger mech for you right now………….”

            “We’re doing this at _your pace_ —we’ll wait until you’re ready for me,” Megatron chuckled.

            “You’re far too nice to me, Megs,” the flame-colored mech giggled, his mood brightening as he just enjoyed being loved and cherished.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            It seemed like a [probably annoying] habit, but any time Rodimus went down to the medi-bay now……..he’d just peek in, peering around the doorframe—hoping he wouldn’t see a particular white-and-grey mech hanging about.   He wished he _could_ act more normal around Drift—that he could have his _friendship_ back, but now he finally understood why it was so painful to be around Drift.   The emotions he could pick up on with this “ _dermal sensor net_ ” thing……….he could see how deeply in love with Ratchet that Drift was—it was so very searing and blinding to these sensitive sensors.  

            But he didn’t want Drift’s “ _emotional lying_ ” anymore, either—that **_fakeness_** in his field meant to make Rodimus feel open and comfortable.   He _didn’t_ want Drift manipulating his field around them together—not in a friendship, _not anymore_.   Just like he had asked Megatron to honestly let loose with his field………to feel the _true feelings_ Megatron had for him.   And…………maybe in the end…………Rodimus was actually afraid that Drift’s honest emotions were actually no kind of warm emotions towards the flame-colored mech after all.   If Drift were faking friendship in order to merely put trust or support towards Rodimus for that “ _you’re the one who needs to be there at the end_ ” nonsense he spouted (which turned out to be true, but **_wasn’t_** the point!) because he had visions of the future…………

            If Drift’s friendship was merely just a platform to put Rodimus on towards that future that had finally happened………..the flame-colored mech thought it would crush him immeasurably.

            And so, Rodimus held on—he _embraced anger_ as he exiled Drift, respecting the swordsmech’s wishes that he remain on the _Lost Light_ ………………when all the flame-colored mech had wanted in that moment was to go wherever Drift went.   He held on, to prove to Drift he _wouldn’t_ run away anymore…………..and he **_had_** to be angry, because everyone else on the ship was angry at the Overlord incident, because if Rodimus _didn’t_ let that anger wash through him—he might have done something truly and absolutely foolish.

            And he would’ve disappointed Drift.

            He _really_ didn’t want to do that.  He really _wanted_ ………….well, in the end, it didn’t matter what **_he_** wanted, because _Drift_ didn’t really want Rodimus.   _He_ wanted Ratchet.   And that’s what the swordsmech got at the end………….the mech he _really wanted_.

            “Hey, hi there,” First Aid said, softly, peeking at Rodimus—who had been carefully peering around the doorframe to make sure Drift wasn’t in the medi-bay before entering it.  “You can come in.  Drift’s not around—he and Ratchet went somewhere, _drinking I think_ ,” the small medic responded, true warmth in his vocalizer.

            “ _’Kay_ …………thanks,” Rodimus answered, a bit surprised at First Aid’s sudden presence, because he didn’t notice it at all.   Had he been too wrapped up in his own thoughts about Drift……..?   “You know……….I actually _feel better_ when I’m in the medi-bay…………” he trailed off as he came in and looked around for a seat.  “Mind if I hang out for a bit, I’m not on shift for a couple of hours and I don’t have much to do…………?”  The flame-colored mech asked, looking at First Aid hopefully.

            “Ratchet discussed your situation with me—normally he’d be _all about_ the patient confidentiality thing, but he wanted to find out my opinion if we could do anything at all for you,” the small medic responded, also taking a seat near Rodimus, but not too close.   “I’ve been wondering if we could………… _channel_ the sensor net, since we can’t tame it.   I don’t think it’s something we could get immediate results with—it could take decades even to get to a point where it’s a bearable stream for your sensors.”

            “You mean like…………..like funnel the emotions so that………….instead of a raging river, it’s like a gentle trickle?”  Rodimus asked.

            “ _Exactly_ ,” First Aid said, cheerfully.   “Most of us medics, when we’re properly trained………….we can focus the dermal sensors more in a general area, as opposed to a full frame net—which is what _you’ve_ got.   We may not be able to train your sensor net to be so fine-tuned, but we can get it so that it funnels the emotions in one direction, instead of chaotically all over the place.”

            “ _Field flow_ , right?”  The flame-colored mech inquired, leaning forwards, eagerly into the conversation.   “I’ve heard of that.   Some people……………..like Soundwave……………they’re really good at bringing the emotional flow in fields and taming it so that it flows around him in controlled waves.  Like………..like creating a painting of emotional and electrical data or conducting a symphony or something.”

            “That’s exactly right— _field flow_.   By now, you’re probably noticing that with the dermal sensor net, when you feel stronger emotions—they have _tastes and scents_ , right?”  First Aid asked, nodding.   Rodimus looked at him and nodded slowly.   “This is how _most_ young medics feel before they train the sensor net.   There’s an _overflow of emotional data_ and your cerebral system can’t quite interpret it all quickly enough for you to process and accept—so it sorts the emotions in a hasty assignment and sometimes they get placed into other data interpretation programs, such as tactile, taste and olfactory.   But when the flow of emotional data gathered by your sensor net is too much for your cerebral system to sort at all—you lash out and you either run away crying or to throw a tantrum.   There’s _too much data_ and your system can’t even begin to comprehend it all…………..so your body tries to do what it would naturally do in cases of a virus, _it tries to purge_.  Rage and tears are the fastest way to _purge emotions_.”

            Rodimus stared at the floor, trying to remember how he felt all those times he threw a tantrum and trashed his room on the _Lost Light_.   Trying to remember how back in the Wreckers he’d sometimes run off crying when things were too intense with the team—they’d even nicknamed him “ _crybaby_ ” for a few decades.   When he realized he was doing that back in the Wreckers—he started running off for a bit, to be alone and he’d just race………….it usually left him being lectured endlessly by Springer or Impactor in the end, _but he didn’t care_.   Even if all he did was rev his engine and spin around in circles………..doing something like that had always helped burn off what was bothering him.   The flame-colored mech rubbed the back of his neck and thought about how he felt each time……………and all he could remember was being _overwhelmed_.

            “People really hated me when I got mad like that………….or when I ran off…………..I felt bad, but I just _couldn’t_ be around people when I got like that,” Rodimus murmured, softly.   “I wish I could explain that this is why, but I doubt anyone would understand…………..”

            “Likely only a medic or a medically-trained individual would,” the small medic answered.  “You probably feel better here in the medi-bay because we’re all trained and don’t tend to leak our emotions…………..and there’s been very little in the way of injured to keep others in here blaring their fields out everywhere.”   The ship’s CMO suddenly stood up and placed a hand on his hip, the other to his chin.  “You know…………if it’s too much to be anywhere and you’re not on an active duty shift—you’re welcome to come here and hang out.  It’s no problem to **_me_** , I doubt it’d bother Velocity.   And Ratchet’s understanding of your situation.”

            “Really?   I _really_ could?”   Rodimus asked, the tone of his voice moving towards a more positive and hopeful range.

            “ _Yeah_.  Feel free.  I can teach you fun medical things, too!”  First Aid said, excitedly.

            “ _Heh_ ……………cool!”  Rodimus said, happily.   “Um………First Aid, can I ask a weird and _probably more graphic than you wanted_ question?”  He asked.

            “Sure,” the small medic chuckled.

            “ _So_ …………. ** _Megatron_** , I made him show me all his field, everything that he was hiding from me.  I wanted to know if he was being _honest_.  I…………. _um_ …………. ** _well_** ……………..” the flame-colored mech trailed off, his optics wandering to every corner of the room as he shifted with embarrassment.

            “Oh, _that_.  Yeah………….. _it can happen_ ,” the ship’s CMO chuckled softly.   “You really like Megatron?”  He asked, sitting back down near Rodimus.

            “Yeah.  _I do_.   He’s…………..he’s really pretty _awesome_ ,” Rodimus said, smiling as he stared at his knee-joints nervously.   He was nervous, because…………….he knew First Aid’s feelings and how the medic had even said he’d probably have joined the mutiny.

            “I know that Megatron’s being honest at his choice to change.   It doesn’t erase all the war or the memories from it, but things Getaway did were at least as bad and _maybe_ even worse.  Getaway killed people he called his _‘friends’_ and that’s **_unforgivable_** to me,” the small medic said, very seriously.   “As a medic, unless you’re on the battlefield like Ratchet—you get a rather romantic view of war and all that it comes with.   I think I really admired the stories and the adventures of the Wreckers, because I wasn’t there and I’d never really experienced all those things…………I think if I’d been on the battlefield like Ratchet, I’d have a different view of things.  Of people and what they endured during the war.”

            “As a former Wrecker—I can tell you, some of those stories are _totally overblown_ ,” Rodimus laughed.  “What we did was **_never_** pretty, but people can manipulate words to soften impacts and to change the course of emotions…………. _Megatron’s_ a master of word manipulation.”

            “If the two of you produced some future mech or femme with _his_ mastery of the word and _your_ emotional infusion of words—that someone would become an undisputed _master of the universe_!”  First Aid said, a teasing tone in his vocalizer.

            Rodimus laughed heartily.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            The planetoid was in chaos.   A luxury liner had crashed onto a basically colonized planetoid on the path the _Lost Light_ was travelling on.   A lot of the reports from the away team that Megatron had sent said that there were missing travelers from the liner……………and missing inhabitants from the colony—but lifesigns were still being picked up by all the sensor equipment.   Megatron thought it might mean that people were caught in part of the wreckage of a habitation building and the forefront of the ship.   He’d made sure that those who could carefully lift heavy things had gone down, along with some medical staff and a situation assessment agent.

            Rodimus stood at the back of the bridge, at a console, scanning the buildings and the luxury liner’s physical dimensions—to see if he could try and pinpoint locations of the missing people.   Some of Ratchet’s words came back to him—that he could also feel organics “ _lifepulses_ ” and emotions………….it made the flame-colored mech wonder if **_he_** could find those people if he went down and just………….. _felt around for them_.   He downloaded the data on the habitation buildings and the luxury liner and walked over to the captain’s chair, waiting patiently for Megatron to finish talking to Roller before he said anything.

            “What is it, Rodimus?”  Megatron asked, turning to him, as he felt light ripples of concern in Rodimus’ field.

            “Let _me_ go down and see if I can figure it out—I downloaded the data and schematics on things, so I should be okay from a navigational standpoint,” Rodimus said, firmly.   “I dunno………….maybe I can use _this thing_ of mine…………..maybe I can get some kind of sense of the missing persons?”  He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck with a servo, as he waved the datapad absently.

            Megatron nodded and reached over to pat the side of Rodimus’ helm.   Then he called to Roller and said that Rodimus was going to come down and help with the search on the missing individuals.   Rodimus went to the loading bay and jumped out the doors, using the piping on his legs to slow his fall and land neatly on the sparsely lichen-covered surface.   The flame-colored mech looked around and then down at the datapad.

            “ _Rodimus!_    Why are **_you_** here?”  Tailgate gasped, tapping the taller mech’s leg to get his attention.

            “I’m going to try something, to try and find the missing people,” the flame-colored mech responded, smiling down at the mini-bot.   “Wanna help me?   I might need help if some of the pathways are small and narrow.   I might not fit, but I could _guide_ you…………..?”   He added, gazing down at the datapad and the information again.

            “Yeah, sure, that sounds like a plan,” Tailgate said, happily.   “But be careful………….some of the area’s a bit unstable, the building and the ship, I mean!”  He added, pointing to some crumbling metal from where the collision between building and liner were.

            The two mechs, the fiery-colored one and the cool-colored one, approached the collision point carefully, with Rodimus constantly looking at the structural layouts on the datapad.   He made some optical measurements, using his free servo to spatially measure things.   Then he made some drawings on the air, tracing what should be the pathways in the forefront of the ship—which would be where some of the crew quarters were………….he invisibly drew the corridors and marked off the rooms.   Then he saw where the crushed nose of the ship was, where it hit the habitation building.   The building looked like it had been struck in a large open area, which may have been some kind of community area.  But around the community area was a kitchen and a place for the organics to use for their bodily waste processing times.  He drew, in the air, a model of the large room and the other smaller rooms around it.

            Then he made a large “ ** _X_** ” over the contact point—where the crash connected in primary.

            “What’re you doing, Rodimus?”  Tailgate asked, wondering why Rodimus was making so many motions with his servos and fingers.

            “Laying out the structure of the liner’s contact area with the building’s contact area………….trying to deduce where a group of organics might wind up,” the flame-colored mech answered softly.   He was also trying very hard to feel for anything with his dermal sensor net, but that was something he couldn’t explain to Tailgate.   “Also………….to see where might be an ideal point to cut into the structures.”

            “ _Oh_.   That’s………….impressive,” the small mech murmured, a bit of awe in the tone of his vocalizer.

            “The structure has a couple of weak points, but……………I’m wary of cutting into those points, because they’re primary habitation areas.   But if we cut into here………….” the flame-colored mech said, kneeling and making a square shape in front of him.

            “ _Yeah!_    Yeah, I get it,” Tailgate answered, suddenly realizing exactly what the younger mech was doing.   “Let me make the initial cutting with my laser—then you can use yours to cut all the way through, I have _more precision_ and you have _the power_.”   The mini-bot focused on the shape Rodimus had made on the hull of the luxury liner…………………the habitation building’s rooms that Rodimus had pointed out were below ground—everything above the ground had been crushed down by the nose of the liner.

            _‘Tailgate may still be a bit too large to get in there…………..he’s still a little bit bigger than the organics—these organics are smaller than those humanoids of that Earth place,’_ Rodimus thought, a bit worried, as he watched Tailgate carefully cut a square into the hull of the ship that was near even with the ground.

            “Your turn, captain,” Tailgate said, cheerfully, trying to keep Rodimus’ spirits up.

            “ _Got it_.   Think you can fit, big guy?” Rodimus chuckled, grinning down at the mini-bot.   He pressed his arm piping against the hull, above the seared cuts Tailgate already made and powered on his own lasers to cut all the rest of the way through the hull.   He got no sense of anything right beyond the hull, so he felt the organics might be deeper in.   The scattered electrical fields of the ship were interfering with any precise feelings he might be getting from anyone at all—including Tailgate knelt right next to him!

            “It might be a bit tight, but I can give it a good shot,” the little mech chuckled warmly.  “How deep in do you think they are?”   He asked.

            “There’s a large gathering room in the habitation building where the contact point is—if the hull cracked open or they used the forward escape hatch—the ones on the ship would drop into this gathering room.   It’s _below ground_ ,” Rodimus answered, being very careful as his lasers cut all the way through Tailgate’s incisions.   “Being a gathering room………….and that there are missing natives—I think the natives might have been in the gathering room.”

            “I hope they’re still alive……………” Tailgate murmured.

            “Me too, big guy…………me too,” Rodimus whispered.

            As soon as Rodimus cut through the hull, he carefully pried the piece outwards.  He stuck his head in to look around and saw emergency lights flashing, as well as some electrical wiring sparking and spitting.  He focused his optics to look down the corridor and saw the gaping hole in the front part of the ship—but at least it looked like it was that the emergency escape hatch had been popped and **_not_** damage from the crash itself.   The flame-colored mech pulled his head out of the hole and looked down at Tailgate, smiling encouragingly.

            “There’s some loose wires spitting in there and there’s a downwards tilt, so………I’d advise using your mag clamps on your pedes—otherwise, there’s not really a lot of damage, it was a clean crash…….. _if_ you could say that,” Rodimus chuckled.   “If you can hand the organics up to me, put them in my servo, I can bring them out…………”

            “Got it……………” Tailgate responded, climbing into the ship, and Rodimus could hear the “ _thump-thump-thump_ ” of the small mech walking down the corridor with his mag clamps activated.

            Rodimus could feel the small fields and lifepulses of the organics…………a bit far down, but just about where he estimated they should be.   He felt them the moment he pulled the piece of the hull out.   He _knew_ there were live beings down there, but they might be injured, so he summoned a medic or two in the area.   He had First Aid and a couple of the organics’ physicians at his side shortly.   The flame-colored mech explained that he and Tailgate were going to bring out the missing organics…………..so the medics instantly got ready to triage.

            “Can you _feel_ them?”  First Aid murmured, leaning over and gently patted the flame-colored mech’s shoulder.

            “A bit.   I’m worried about injuries.  It looks like a very clean crash, but I don’t know what it looks like inside,” Rodimus answered.   “I don’t think it’s horrible or Tailgate would be fretting a lot more.  _Oh_ , he just pinged me—he’s ready to start handing the people to me!”  He said, suddenly.

            Rodimus leaned into the opening as much as he could, holding his arm with an open servo downwards towards where the emergency escape hatch should be.  He felt the weight of one…………..two…………..three small bodies land in his palm and then pinged Tailgate to say he was going to pull his arm out.   They looked so small………..but one was an adult, as he understood this species, the other two were children.   They were all blood-streaked and the adult was holding an arm that looked to be at an unusual angle— _but they were alive_!

            It took nearly an hour, but eventually they pulled about 23 organics out of the crash area.   Most of the injuries were minor—only one looked to have internal injuries, so the two organic medics focused immediately on seeing to his comfort and assistance.    _They were **all** alive_.   Every single one of them had been found—bringing all the missing, from both the habitation area and the luxury liner to the list of “ _no longer missing_ ”.   Then Rodimus helped Tailgate out, by grabbing the little mech’s small servo and letting him “ _climb_ ” back up using the mag clamps on his pedes.

            Tailgate and Rodimus were mobbed by grateful organics, crying and sobbing and the flame-colored mech could feel their barely perceptible fields were full of joy and thankfulness.   Rodimus thought, for a brief moment, maybe this dermal sensor net thing wasn’t quite such a horrible burden to his life whatsoever.   Yeah, he’d used _mostly_ observation and deductive reasoning to find the group—but he was assured the organics _were there_ as soon as they’d cut the hole in the ship, he’d **_felt_** them.   And the thankful emotions didn’t make him want to run away crying, like most of his online hours on the ship nowadays—with his moody crewmates.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Rodimus emerged from his washrack to find Megatron sitting on the couch in his hab suite.   As he dried himself off, he wandered over and plopped down next to the former Decepticon Leader……….then he curled up against the bulky grey mech.

            “That was _excellent_ work today,” the co-captain of the Lost Light said, smiling down at Rodimus as he wrapped an arm around the slender mech and laid a servo on the upraised hip-plating.  “We’ll still be around another day or two, to assist with the cleanup.   They informed us of a nearby junk planet where we can take the luxury liner to be stripped, scrapped and probably used as a base for a new one someday……….as soon as we can pull the ship out of the habitation building safely, _we will_ —using mag clamps and hooks.”

            “I’m just glad the injuries were relatively minor, overall—something like this could have been much more tragic to a fragile species like those organics,” Rodimus sighed, snuggling close to Megatron and turning his face into the larger mech’s neck fairing.

            “Our good deeds are apparently spreading—the captain of the luxury liner said he had heard of us, the strange _‘galactic meddlers’_ , as he addressed us,” the larger mech laughed.

            Rodimus felt the warm rumble of laughter in Megatron’s chest, as he was leaning against it…………and let the spin of the former Decepticon’s Spark and purr of the engines at slowdown lull him into full relaxation.

            “Haven’t we _always_ been meddlers of some sort?”  The flame-colored mech chuckled.

            “In more ways than the good ways, but it is _definitely_ a true statement,” Megatron laughed, softly.  “How are you, my little flame?”  He asked, gazing down at the flame-colored mech, whose faceplate was almost up against his.

            “Good,” Rodimus answered.  “I _really_ like you, you know……………thanks for………… _you know_ , taking on the burden of my life—I know nothing about me is easy to deal with,” he murmured, brushing his lips lightly over Megatron’s.  “I think………….. _soon_ …………maybe I’ll be ready to interface—if you’re honest with your field and leave it open and flowing when we do it.”

            Megatron hesitated before answering that—given the reaction Rodimus had with just feeling the field and nothing more than that, he worried that interfacing while like that might be _too much_ for the younger mech.

            “ _Yeah_ , I can see you’re worried about that, but……………..if we’re gonna do it—I want _everything of you_ in that moment.   If I burnout on overloads, you’ll just have to carry me to the medi-bay—where Ratchet will probably die of laughter right before he lectures you for going too far,” Rodimus laughed, burying his face in Megatron’s neck.

            “You’re probably right about that,” the former Decepticon Leader responded, smiling warmly.   “We’ll wait until we finish up this thing with the organics and let everything settle back down here before we even try.   But I really want you to tell me to stop if it’s too much—all right?”  He asked.

            “It _will_ be too much, but _yeah_ ……………I’ll stop you if it’s just not going right,” the flame-colored mech answered, snuggling happily against the grey mech’s large frame.  “ _Promise_.”

            “All right, I’ll look forward to it,” Megatron said, raising the servo on the flame-colored mech’s hip-plating and then began stroking his back as he picked up the remote and turned on the viewing screen.   He waited for the video program to show the option screen to “ _continue playing_ ” from where they left off watching a movie the other night.

            As soon as the silly little romantic comedy began playing, Rodimus readjusted his body against Megatron’s so he could watch and the older mech adjusted the arm he had around the younger one.   _Right now, everything felt **warm** and **nice** and **perfect**._


End file.
